Creep
by merlintriss
Summary: Inspired by the song of the same title. Sometimes the future just reminds you of the past. SPNxSV , Chloe/Dean, Chlean
1. Chapter 1

A.N.--I was listening to this song (the Damien Rice version), and even though I know that this isn't the type of music that Dean would listen to, it felt appropriate. I feel vaguely bad that I wasn't listening to the Radiohead version, but the mix CD didn't have it on there.

When you were here before,  
Couldn't look you in the eye  
You're just like an angel,  
Your skin makes me cry

You float like a feather  
In a beautiful world  
I wish I was special  
You're so very special

But I'm a creep,  
I'm a weirdo  
What the hell am I doin' here?  
I don't belong here

He stretched languidly, trying to remember what it'd felt like a year ago to feel her beside him. Instead, when he opened his eyes he was just in another trashy motel, his brother lying a few feet away in his own bed. It's not like he expected her to be there. He was realistic. But in his dreams, it felt like it was a year ago, and her small body was tucked in neatly beside his.

Dean played with the phone in his lap, trying not to think about the circumstances that had separated him from Chloe. She was everything he wanted in a girl. Strong, tough, spunky, with just enough spark to keep things interesting. She worked well with Sam and him, managed to remain past a one night stand, and didn't mind moving from place to place. She was on the run, something he understood enough not to ask her about. He wasn't even sure he would've told her if she hadn't been attacked by the vampires first.

He still remembered the day. Sam and he had infiltrated a nest of vampires that they knew for sure were out for the human variety of blood. He wanted to kill them quickly so he could salt their bones and burn them and move on. Something about his job was getting less as time progressed. He knew he still had to keep on keeping on, but he wasn't sure if he could hold out much longer.

Dean went in first, leading with his gun, Sam following behind him with a sawed off. In the first room alone they managed to dust two, a couple he guessed from the way the girl responded to the death of her mate. Continuing into what he and Sam knew to be the last of the rooms, he found two vampires wrapped in each other, the man rising from the bed, the sheet falling to wrap itself around his waist. That wasn't what caught his attention though. What caught Dean's attention was the blonde girl tied around a post on the floor, glaring defiantly at him and her captors.

Before he could really think about any of this, Sam took the first shot at the man, and he shot second at the woman, both dead before they could raise more out of the bed. What surprised him more was the fact that the girl didn't seem the least bit shaken by any of this.

"You okay?" Sam went in first. He was better at dealing with civilians.

"Fabulous. Those two have been going at it like a porno for the last two hours. You'd think I wasn't even here."

"Listen, this may sound a little odd, but did they bite you at all? Did any of their blood transfer?" Sam was half way through their regular vampire sermon when she stopped him.

"Look, I know they're vampires. And no, there were no bites, no sex, and nothing that would transfer blood from them to me. I've just been here long enough to see positions I've never seen."

"Oh, I'm sure they're nothing special," Dean smirked, before returning to the bodies, throwing salt on the newly redead flesh. He turned to see Sam glaring disapprovingly at him while the blonde just smirked back at him.

"Honey, I could do things to you that would make you blush," she smiled with enough of an angelic flair for him to forget himself for a minute and genuinely smile.

"Oh I doubt that."

"Back to the point at hand," Sam went back to his law school days and took charge, "Ms…" he left it hanging for her to fill in.

"Chloe. Just Chloe."  
"what, are you like Madonna or Prince?"

"I'm surprised your musical knowledge goes that far into the future," she smiled at his confusion, "Please, I can tell by looking at you your one true love was Led Zeppelin."

"I'm impressed," he looked at Sam, "think she's another psychic?"

"No, just an intrepid reporter. And you don't have to pretend like this whole supernatural thing is a joke. I know all about this stuff."

"Sure you do," Dean replied, snark at full force.

"I run the Wall of the Weird site. But seeing as how you don't believe in music that has been performed live in this generation, I doubt you've heard of that," Dean could see from Sam's face that he had, "I do the whole meteor freak thing, and it stands to reason if people like that exist, then demons and vampires should too. Not to mention those two had more than a regular blood fetish."

"Wait. Chloe Sullivan?" Sam completely broke their cover of detached bystanders. Taking out the lighter fluid to drench the bodies, he shook his head. Boy always was a sucker for a pretty face.

"Yeah, I see you have heard of me."  
"A little. I check up on your Wall of the Weird site when I can. Purely recreational of course."

"Of course."

"You do some really interesting work."

"Thank you." Sam had untied her somewhere along the line, and she was watching with some form of morbid fascination as Dean set the bodies on fire, leaving them as he went to the next room. Everything was done quickly, "Do you need us to take you somewhere?"

"Lets see. Before they grabbed me I was at the motel on 65. I figure my car and stuff is still there, if I can find the key," she felt up her pocket before pulling out the brass key with a bright key tag. She glowed before looking back at Sam, totally ignoring Dean, who prickled slightly with irritation. Whatever. If she wanted to make doe eyes and share girly movie moments with his little bro, then okay.

"We'll take her and then be on our way," he led the way outside, closing the trunk before she could notice the massive arsenal of weapons he stored there.

"Damn. A '67 Chevy Impala?" Dean thought his heart might stop when she said that. It took a good woman to think his car was sexy. It took a really good woman to know what his car was. She smiled at him again, "It's good to know about cars when you're trying to pick up guys."

"Are you trying to pick me up Blondie?"

"Why, is it working?"

"You have no idea." She glanced over, and he got the impression that he was being compared to someone else. Then her gaze focused directly on his crotch.

"If it is working, then there's not much down there, is there?" she smirked before climbing in the back seat. Sam looked ready to laugh.

"Shut up and get in the car," Dean knew where the motel was. It was where the brothers were staying before they headed out again, but he wasn't about to let the "intrepid reporter" know that. She'd probably try and hang out or something like that, and as amusing as it was to watch his brother moon over her, she was trying his nerves. That or he was starting to like her. Both were completely ridiculous.

Thinking of that day now, he was shocked to find he still remembered all of the details. How he had been impressed by her spunk and her knowledge of his car, how he was annoyed at her blatantly turning him down. It couldn't have been that long ago. 2 years? It had to be two years ago that he had met Chloe Sullivan, and it was two years later that he regretted letting her go.

(R and R)


	2. Chapter 2

Thank you to my one reviewer and the few people who have signed this story up to their story alert list. Thank you for reading, sorry it took me so long to review. I also realized a discrepancy in my first chapter. You don't kill vampires with salt. Sorry.

Chapter 2

Dean paced the room, attempting to quiet his mind enough to actually sleep. He knew it was pointless, but he didn't want to be completely dead on his feet, didn't want to risk wrecking his baby.

He thought back to Chloe. Dammit, his mind always went back to her, how she had somehow managed to get back into their lives.

In their line of work, it wasn't often that Dean and Sam ran into people outside of other hunters more than once. When you lived on the road, you didn't stay in one place long enough to make friends. But Chloe, she wasn't like the other women, or even like the men.

He didn't try to keep up with her. Sam did. Sam could have friends that were women without imagining them naked. It was a skill Dean hadn't entirely picked up. But Sam and Chloe, they had a bond over the Wall of Weird, their mutual occupations as intellectuals in the field of the paranormal. When it came down to it, Dean was a blunt instrument in their war, Sam was the finesse. So Chloe and Sam bonded over that. And that made Dean happy, because it meant that when Chloe needed help, she called them first instead of that farmboy friend or the billionaire.

As with most of their visits to people they knew, the purpose wasn't entirely casual. A spirit was possessing the newsroom at the Daily Planet, and despite the surplus of local tight wearing crusaders, the spirit would not stop wreaking havoc. It had already claimed a mail boy and one of the reporters from the gossip section.

It didn't take long, Chloe and Sam putting together their magnificent brains and the infinite search power of the internet to find out that ten years ago, a young reporter had been killed in the offices by her jealous boyfriend. Her typewriter, which was actually the murder weapon, had been kept at the Daily Planet for years, unused, until a mail boy had given his girlfriend, a new gossip columist, the typewriter he had found in the basement as a gift. And for the first time in ten years, ink hit paper, and a spirit was brought back with a vengeance.

Later, drinking cheap beer while watching the typewriter burn, Sam made the offer. It had shocked Dean. After all, she was just another girl. But Sam knew that they needed someone, and the spunky blonde looked like the right kind of fit.

She dumped the rest of her beer on the fire, Dean reacting in mock outrage as she sauntered off, saying it would only take her an hour to pack. The brothers stayed by the fire, determined to see the entire typewriter reduced to ashes before taking off with the newest Hunter in their pack.

Chloe and Dean had a different relationship from her and Sam. Instantly, he knew he wanted her, perhaps more physically at first, then slowly he wanted something more. With Sam, she would be smart and witty, they would discuss their latest finds on Skinwalkers and Wendingos, on the books they had read, and the colleges they had looked at. With Dean it was tougher to talk .

But she tried.

For one thing, there was the car. Dean loved his car and Chloe was willing enough to help him take care of her, even when there was really nothing wrong and he just wanted to have the hood up and hear her purr. You'd think the car was a woman the amount of time Dean spent on her and with her, but Chloe understood. Dean thought he heard her explaining it to Sam, "That car has saved your asses a lot of times. As long as he isn't actually having sex with it, I don't see the problem."

Leave it to the girl to make it all about physical. Not that Dean didn't ponder briefly how one would have sex with a car, but that was purely an intellectual endeavor. He wondered if cars had spirits, and what they would look like if they did. He knew his baby would be hot.

She didn't like his music. After the first few nights and the first hunt, she had almost thrown one of his Metallica tapes out of the car, asking who carried around tapes anymore. Sam tried to negotiate a compromise, but it was too late. For the next three weeks, Dean controlled the radio and mullet rock was on the menu. Constant headbanging, a little ACDC, some Zeppelin thrown in for good measure, and a lot of Metallica.

When he had finally gone through the entire collection she had been silent for hours, staring ahead before grudgingly admitting that she hadn't hated all of it.

Dean had known then that there was something about this girl.

2 years later, he also knew he wasn't going to get any sleep tonight. He sat in the cheap, polyester arm chair that looked out over the parking lot, the streetlights turning the concrete yellow. It was going to be a long night.


End file.
